


Room With A View

by xanster



Series: Real-Life Matters [8]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:26:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanster/pseuds/xanster
Summary: A short piece about a pianist who is struggling with his music, and his sanity, especially after weeks of lockdown, when he hears a violinist play...
Relationships: Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin
Series: Real-Life Matters [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/867567
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Room With A View

A melody tinkles soft within the four walls of the room, echoing off the wooden floors and concrete walls.

It goes on, a chord and then a pause.

A scribble on paper, lead against white. 

_A C note would suit the bridge better, he thinks._

He takes another inhale, a breath deep into his lungs.

He tries to clear his head.

It's been days, days of working at this.

Trying to make something, no, anything out of _nothing._

Kids squeal as the sound of their play reach his ears.

Finally, direct sunlight and fresh air after weeks of being cooped out.

Toys that go round and round, left alone for the seemingly boundless green of the grass downstairs.

It has been strange times indeed, for them, for _all of us._

_Yet, he's still inside; an isolation that both was, is and always will be_.

The journey of creation, to the artist it is one that is solitary.

To bring others on a journey, you must yourself, tread it first, he recalls a mentor saying in his past.

A bird flies past, never bound by the laws of the land but of its own. 

Outside, like the dischordant notes of frustration and chaos, 

The dark unknown had swept the world, like the Reaper wielding his shaft.

As countries locked down, and tried to keep their people away from their deathbeds, 

Akin to the madness that sometimes threatened to drown him, both in his head and outside of the four walls he stayed within.

He stares down at his old grand piano.

The keys worn with use, tears and alcohol stains.

Black and white, its brooding stature like an exasperated but loyal partner crouched in his studio.

The only thing that anchored him to this world through the music it helped him weave from the cacophony in his head.

Then the silence breaks. 

A faint note echoes through the walls.

A crescendo, a call. 

It seemed to be following his train of thought.

He pauses, curiosity pricking at his ears.

The music plays, it sounds like a violin, higher-pitched and quick on the uptick.

He goes to the window and looks out,

Past the kids playing downstairs and across the road. 

There, a tall man stands by the road.

A smile bright and black hair that flops over his face.

His long arms caress a violin that is dancing energetically on his right shoulder. 

Two onlookers have gathered, feet tapping in accompaniment.

He stands at the window, almost spellbound.

The music is different, a stark contrast to his almost darker sound. 

The music the man's making seems to make the sun shine brighter and his room is starting to feel a bit too hot.

He wonders if he _should_..?

He takes his keys and puts on shoes that have not touched the outside surface in months.

He pauses briefly at the gate of his building, wondering if he could brave the world.

Then he hears the music call and he takes a deep breath.

He opens the door and goes. 

The man is handsome, eyes that twinkle as he smiles.

He catches the man's eyes and they hold his gaze for a second or maybe more.

The set is done, and the man bows in the applause he receives.

He waits and then unsure of what he's waiting for, he turns to leave.

He feels a hand tap him from behind.

"Hi," the violinist says, lips curved into a grin that makes his heart skip.

It's been too long, before the strangeness of the months that passed and of the career that both broke and healed his heart.

"My name's Yunho, what's yours?"

\--

His world is different now.

His studio that once had just a grand piano, now has violins and guitars. 

His bed that once slept one, now sleeps two.

Even better, the madness that sometimes threatens to take him under, has now become a speck that's under something _bigger._

He thinks again and hits the last key. 

The bridge of his finished score _does_ sound better with the C note. 

He smiles as a pair of his arms encircle him and a warm kiss is pressed against his neck. 

"Changmin," Yunho whispers, "I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> Yiruma's "Room With A View" is such good BGM for this piece.  
> Also, I hope everyone is well, and staying safe.  
> I know weeks of lockdown have done numbers on people's sense of well-being and security.  
> It's hard, but hang in there, we're coming to the end.  
> It's been awhile, I wanted to come and say hello.  
> (Also, I will finish Never Too Late, don't worry). :)


End file.
